


Cubby

by scarletjedi



Series: postsecret 'verse [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: AU-season 3, Complete, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletjedi/pseuds/scarletjedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David goes to Scandals for the first time. And the second. And the third...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cubby

**Author's Note:**

> follows "Blank Pages" in my Kurtofsky Postsecret Verse. Thanks to ravingliberal for the beta :)
> 
> This story is set in over the summer between their Junior and Senior years, so in-between seasons 2 and 3. As you will see, it goes AU for season 3 pretty early on, moving a scene from "First Time" into August. Some dialoge is taken directly from the episode. Some isn't. 
> 
> And bonus points if you guess who the OC cameos are. :D

The first time that Dave went to Scandals, he sat in his truck for half an hour before he chickened out and drove home, cursing himself for a coward.   
  
The second time, he made it halfway before he got a flat tire and had to turn around.   
  
The third time, Dave got out of his truck, squared his shoulders, and ballsed his way in. The bouncer looked at his fake ID for a long time and Dave felt his heart thump. But the guy must have seen _something_ , and let Dave through the door anyway. Dave did nothing that night but drink a beer at the bar and let his shoulders relax as the men around him drank and danced and kissed and _didn’t give a crap about Dave._ He nearly wept with relief.   
  
By the sixth time, the bouncer recognized his face and waved him in with a nod. Dave knew the guy _knew_ , but this was the first time he had proof. After twenty minutes at the bar, the bouncer came over and introduced David to a few of the guys who came to drink and bullshit and shoot pool, saying:   
  
“Cubby here’s new. Behave.”   
  
Dave frowned. “Cubby?”   
  
“Oh, baby boy, you _are_ new,” one of them said. He was big, bigger than Dave thought gay guys _could_ be, and hairy. But his eyes were kind, and what little of his smile that was visible under his beard was gentle. He held out his hand; it was the size of a dinner plate, and David’s hand was lost in it. “Monty.”   
  
“Dave,” he said.   
  
“Pull up a chair, Dave,” said another, who looked like Anderson Cooper’s larger brother. “I’m Steve.”   
  
The Bouncer, Sal, left, and Dave snagged a chair from the closest table, sat at the end of their booth, and wrung his hands together. The other two at the booth were obviously a couple, from the way they were wrapped around each other. The stocky one was attractive in a good-natured way, with auburn hair and a shy smile. The other, blond with too-white teeth, looked like he walked off a toothpaste billboard. The blond held out his hand.   
  
“I’m Mike,” he said, and Dave shook his hand, trying to hide his surprise at the accent; he’d expected California, not New Jersey. “And this is Ted,” Mike said, and Dave shook his hand as well.   
  
“Hi,” Dave said, again, trying to hide his nerves with a smile, and if their faces were anything to go by, he was failing miserably.   
  
“So when Sal said “new”, how new was he talking?” Steve asked. “You legal yet?” Ted looked at Steve with look of exasperation.   
  
“You gonna make me leave, if I’m not?” Dave asked.   
  
“Nah,” Mike said. “You made it in, you can stay.”   
  
Dave shifted, and knew his face was flushing. “Then, no. Not exactly. I’ll be eighteen in two months.”   
  
“Christ,” Steve closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the booth. Mike and Mitch shared a look, and tried not to laugh.   
  
“Ignore him,” Ted said. “He’s just grumpy because he needs to get laid. I’ve seen you here before, sitting at the bar. You never talked to anybody, but I thought you were just shy.”   
  
Dave laughed, self consciously. “Can’t it be both?”   
  
“There’s no need to be shy around us, Cubby,” Mike said. “We don’t bite. Well,” he said, “Steve does, but only if you ask nice.”   
  
“Never jailbait.”  
  
“That is a lie, you liar.”   
  
Steve waved Mike off, and Dave laughed, knowing he was bright red. He looked down, wishing he had a beer, something, anything, to occupy his hands.   
  
“Oh, look at that dimple,” Mitch said. “No wonder Sal sent you over.” Dave looked up at Mitch, because _really?_ The guys around here must be desperate, if _Dave_ , chubby, sweaty _Dave_ , was a catch. “So what’s an adorable little bear cub like you doing in a dive like this?”   
  
Dave had asked himself that same question. He wasn’t sure he was ready to explain that he just wanted to _fit in_ , even for a little while. “Why do you keep calling me that?”   
  
“What?” Ted asked. “Cub? It’s what you are.” Dave shook his head and Ted said, “I take it you’ve noticed that not _all_ gay men are...flouncy?”   
  
“Or like Mike,” Mitch added. Mike buffed his nails on his shirt, and blew Mitch an air kiss.   
  
At Dave’s nod, Ted went on. “Well, because of society’s need to categorize,” Steve groaned and rolled his eyes, muttering about starting a scientist to lecture. Apparently there was some story there. “Gay men have subcategories. Bears are gays like, well, Mitch. Cubs are smaller or younger bears. You and I, Dave, you for your youth and I for my lack of height, are Cubs. So,” Ted shrugged. “Cubby.”   
  
“We’re all Bears, here” Mitch said. “Except for Mike. He’s too pretty. But it’s okay, we like him anyway.”   
  
Mike flipped Mitch, but he was smiling, and Dave got the impression that wasn’t the first time he’s head that.   
  
“Huh,” Dave said, and chewed his lip, his mind stuck on the fact that there were more like him, enough that they got their own name. He’d known, at some level, that not all gays were like Kurt and Prep School, he was one, after all, and he’d even seen them around the bar, but hearing it all laid out like that. “Okay.”   
  
“So you never answered the question,” Mike said. “What brings you here?”   
  
Dave opened his mouth and froze. He swallowed, and closed his eyes. He tried again, and no sounds came out. He sighed.   
  
“Fuck, If we’re playing therapist I need a beer,” Steve said. “Let me out.”   
  
Mitch stood and Steve climbed out of the booth. “Bring back a round,” Mitch called after him. When he sat, he smiled at Dave. “It’s okay, whatever it is.”   
  
Dave nodded, but still didn’t speak. He could feel his story on the tip of his tongue, but it was held back. How to begin? How could he begin? He opened his mouth to make his apologies, ready to run back out to his truck, experiment failed, when Steve came back and with the round. He handed a beer to Dave, and Dave blinked down at the bottle. He drank, licked his lips, and said:   
  
“I’ve spent the last few years trying to be a ‘normal’ teen, you know, football and cheerleaders and the ‘cool kids’ table, and my life just--fell apart. So, instead of changing myself, I thought I’d change my scene.”   
  
“Has it worked?” Ted asked.   
  
“So far,” Dave grinned up at him. Ted raised his drink in a toast.   
  
“Speaking of football,” Mike said, and Ted rolled his eyes. “What position?”   
  
“Fullback,” David said. “You play?”   
  
“Quarterback,” Mike said, and Dave heard a whole story in that word, the pride and the pain. “Until my Mom got sick. Priorities, you know.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dave said. “Sorry about your mom.”  
  
Mike shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I don’t really miss it.”   
  
“Except when you do,” Ted said. “Then out come the tapes, and the trophy, and the jersey...” Mike pouted at Ted, who kissed it away. It was strange, seeing them kiss like that, but--good strange. They shared a fond smile and Dave changed his view from “boyfriends” to “husbands.”   
  
“You wanna keep playing?” Mike asked, looking away from Ted.   
  
Dave shrugged. “To be honest, I only joined the team because I was told my social stock would fall if I stayed with hockey. I was an enforcer,” He grinned. “And I’m damn good.”   
  
They laughed and Dave felt himself relaxing. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the way they just accepted his presence there, but when Mitch took the opportunity to turn the conversation to hockey, David went with it, adding his own opinions where he could and just--being. It was nice.   
  
Steve turned out to have a senior position at a law firm; senior enough that he was almost expected to settle down with a woman, but not so much that his bachelor status was really questioned. “The people who matter know and either don’t care or don’t talk to me. Everyone else? It’s only their business if we’re going to fuck.”   
  
“And most of them don’t know your name, so it’s a non issue,” Mitch said. Mitch was a tattoo artist who specialized in grayscale portraits. He had pushed up his sleeve to show David the Addams Family on his left arm. He was out, but quiet. He wouldn’t tell you, but if you asked he wouldn’t deny it.   
  
But it was Ted and Mike that interested him the most. They had met just out of college, through some international non profit organization. They had bonded almost instantly as best friends, and apparently, had quite the reputation for being practical jokers. When the organization had gone belly up, they had fought and lost contact. Two years later, they had met up at a charity event in Chicago, fell into bed and never left. Ted worked from home doing freelance coding, apparently everything from video games to internet security systems. Mike actually _had_ been a model, but currently worked at the local youth center as a counselor and coach. But they lived _together_ as a _couple_ and _everybody_ knew.   
  
Dave liked them immediately.   
  
It was almost, but not quite, a surprise, two beers later, to find himself laying out his whole life story to Mitch while they racked up the pool balls.    
  
“So, there’s this boy,” Dave said, and Mitch smiled at him.   
  
“Isn’t there always?”   
  
“Heh, yeah,” Dave laughed. “But this boy--everyone knew he was gay before we knew what gay _was_. Just--the way he dressed, the way he moved. Then, when we hit high school, and he was wearing all of these weird clothes, like high fashion shit, and he was in glee and--his voice never really dropped, you know, so, he sings like a freakin angel, but he talks like a girl. Very prissy.” David lined up his shot, and broke. “He’s--God, so beautiful.”   
  
“You crushed hard,” Mitch said, and bent over ther table.   
  
Dave shook his head. “I crushed so hard I tried to crush _him_. I--it went beyond bullying. It was--he was this constant reminder of everything I hated about myself, because I wanted everything about him, and I was always told that everything about him was _wrong_ . And half the time, I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to break him or just touch him.” It’s Dave’s turn to shoot, but he just stood there, holding onto the cue stick like it was a lifeline.   
  
“Then one day, I shove him into a locker, and he _follows_ me, practically _chased_ me into the locker room, and he’s all up in my face and yelling and--I kissed him. Just grabbed his face, and kissed him to shut him up and he was--beautiful--angry and--The look on his face, the fear--he shoved me away and I ran. And then I _panicked_. ”   
  
Dave sighed. Mitch was watching him from across the table, but not not judging, so it was easy for Dave to say: “I don’t remember much other than the fear.”  Which was a lie--Dave remembered everything, the memory only heightened by fear. But he hadn’t had nearly enough to drink to get into all of that. “It was only when I was expelled that my parents realized how bad things had gotten. They got me a pretty much useless therapist for anger managment, and got me back in school. He--transferred, and it was better because he wasn’t right in front of my face but--but, it wasn’t until Prom that I realized things had to change.”  
  
“What happened?” Mitch asked.   
  
“Santana, one of the cheerleaders and another glee kid, had caught me checking out another player’s ass out the water fountain.” Mitch snorted, and Dave grinned. “Hey, it’s a fine ass. I couldn’t help myself. But she saw, and we ‘dated’ so that she could win prom queen on an anti-bullying platform. I was her dancing-monkey-come-look-at-the-reformed-bully. But it was also a ploy to get _him_ back.  
  
“Then, well, Santana’s plan half-worked. He came back I was voted Prom King. But--it was so cruel. They voted him Prom _Queen_ .”    
  
“Shit,” Mitch said, running a hand through his hair.   
  
“Yeah. I’ve never seen--but he rallied. He _owned_ it. Wore that crown like a pro. And then the principal insisted that we dance and I--I ran so fast. I just couldn’t.”  
  
Dave sighed, rubbed his eyes. “I stayed in bed for over day, and then decided I was tired of running. I can’t be out at school, and my parents--no. So, here I am.” Dave didn’t mention his cried apology to Kurt, the way Kurt had accepted his apology, and finally _forgiven_ him. It was too much, way too much.   
  
“Don’t freak out,” Mitch said, and then hugged him. Dave laughed once before hugging back. And if it was a little harder than it could have been, well, a little _gayer_ , well--so were they. So suck it. “Welcome,” Mitch said softly, and pulled away.   
  
“Thanks,” Dave said, and sunk the red ball.   
  
Dave stayed until last call, sobering up for the drive home. He was lucky it was summer, and his parents had lifted his curfew. He really didn’t want to have to explain this to them, not after the night had gone so well. But the talk lingered in his mind, and before he went to bed, he pulled up the school district website to see how he could transfer schools; After everything, maybe Kurt really did have the right idea and a new school would let things breathe.   
  
By mid-August, Dave found himself almost _happy_. He had friends who knew, his transfer paperwork was ready to submit. He hadn’t done it yet, because that would involve his parents and he wasn’t sure how to talk to them anymore. But the Deadline was Monday, so Dave knew he’d have to do something soon.   
  
But tonight, Dave was just another gay guy in another gay bar, watching another questionable Drag Queen sashy by. He was in the booth next to Steve, as Steve had decided having Dave around meant he felt young. Dave was pretty sure that meant Steve liked him.   
  
“Fuck me,” Steve sighed. “Damn twinks look younger every time I seem ‘em.”   
  
Dave followed Steve’s gaze and nearly choked on his beer. Mitch turned to look at the bar.   
  
“You know ‘em, Cubby?”   
  
“Yeah,” Dave admitted. “Remember me telling you about that kid at school?” he nodded over at the bar. “That’s him and his prep-school boyfriend.” Dave looked away; Scandals was _his_ safe place. He wasn’t supposed to be faced with this shit, not here. He heard a smack, and looked over to see Ted glaring at Steve, who was rubbing his arm.   
  
“Stop staring, you creeper. He’s in high school.”   
  
“That is not a high school ass,” Steve said. “That is a fantasy come true.”   
  
“You sure they’re dating?” Mike asked.   
  
“Yeah.” Dave said. “Why?”   
  
“Because that popped-collar twink just dragged the shorter one onto the dance floor and left pretty boy at the bar.”   
  
“What?” Dave looked up. Sure enough, Kurt was sitting alone at the bar while prep-school danced with what’s-his-face. Sebastian. Dave raised an eyebrow. In the two weeks that Sebastian had been coming to the bar, he had managed to carve a reputation for himself; easy, willing, and--while not discrete--not really interested in spreading anything but some fun. Dave wasn’t sure if he wasn’t Sebastian’s type, or if the guy just hadn’t gotten to him yet, but either way, Sebastian had managed to separate the incredibly gay duo, and Dave was on his feet before he knew what he was doing. He finished off his beer as he walked up to the bar, claiming the empty stool next to Kurt, and said:   
  
“Better watch your boyfriend.” He turned to the bartender, waving the empty bottle, going for nonchalant, and knowing just how forced it looked. “Could I get another beer, please.”   
  
And Kurt turned, and David looked and he had to laugh at the shock on Kurt’s face, had to look away, because he _got it;_ of all the gay bars in all the world and shit.   
  
“You disappeared,” Kurt said. “After prom, you were just--gone.”   
  
Dave shrugged. “Running scared? I dunno. I just--couldn’t face the rumors.”   
  
Kurt nodded, eyes down on his drink, and he looked, just for a moment, so _weary_ , and Dave knew--Kurt _got_ it. He _knew_ what it was like to have everyone talking about him but never to him, and Dave would always feel like shit for adding to that. But Kurt looked up and smiled at him; Dave wished he was that brave. He was trying to be.   
  
“Just to let you know,” Kurt said. “I never would have told anyone. It’s not who I am.” Dave nodded. Yeah, he knew that _now_. Not so much then. But there was no point in bringing that up. Kurt had forgiven him. It was water under the bridge, even if sometimes he still felt wet with the spay.   
  
“So, you come here all the time?” Kurt asked.   
  
Dave shrugged and nodded. “People like me here, I feel accepted.” He blushed, remembering that first day with his friends here. “I’m what they call a bear cub.”  
  
Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Because you look like Yogi?”  
  
Dave laughed, because fuck if he didn’t think the same thing at first. “I don’t know, because I’m burly or something?” Kurt nodded, looking away again, his smile falling. Dave felt his stomach drop. What if-- “What, so is this the part where you judge me?”  
  
“No.” Kurt said, looking back up at him. “As long as you’re not beating people up, I’m all for being whoever you have to be at your own speed.” Dave nodded, could tell Kurt meant it, but couldn’t help wondering if his speed was _fast enough_.   
  
Maybe by college, when he wasn’t trapped in Lima, he would be ready to be himself _all_ the time. Because there was no denying _now_ that he wanted it, wanted to be out, more than anything. He wasn’t going to let anybody’s predictions of a loser closet-case determine his future. But he couldn’t--not when the thought of being out at school was enough to make his palms sweat and his vision grey. Not yet. “Right now,” Dave said. “I’m just trying to get through high school.”   
  
“Aren’t we all,” Kurt said, sipping his cocktail.   
  
“What _are_ you drinking?” Dave asked, because he had to. He knew this was a gay bar, but he really hadn’t seen people drink much besides beer.   
  
“I--have no idea,” Kurt said. “It’s a mocktail, because I’m driving. Sebastian ordered it, and I accepted his backhanded approach with aplomb, because if he’s going to waste his money, then fine by me. I will drink it on principle. But to be perfectly honest,” he leaned in. “It’s a little too gay, even for me.”   
  
Dave barked out a surprised laugh, covering his hand with his mouth.   
  
“You shouldn’t do that,” Kurt said, pulling Dave’s hand away. “You’ve got a lovely smile. Show it off.”   
  
Dave knew he was red-faced, but he let his hand drop. He couldn’t believe, after everything last year, that he was sitting here next to Kurt, having not only a civil conversation, but _enjoying_ it--the easy back and forth that was _almost_ like flirting.   
  
“Okay, I’m not going to lie,” Kurt said. “This is just surreal enough, that I feel a little bit like I’m about to get Punk’d.”   
  
“Yeah,” Dave laughed. “Me too.”   
  
“Well,” Kurt smirked, and sipped almost daintily at his drink. “As long as I’m not alone.” Dave held up his beer bottle, and they clinked drinks.   
  
Kurt stirred his drink with his straw. “Football tryouts are next week,” Kurt said. “Finn’s been driving everyone crazy because of it. You going out for the team again?”   
  
“I dunno,” Dave said, picking at the label on his beer. “I--I’ve been thinking of transferring.”   
  
“What?” Kurt said. He sounded honestly surprised. “Why?”   
  
Dave shrugged. “Same reason why you didn’t see me after prom. I kinda just want a normal senior year, you know? Without any of the shit from last year following me around.”   
  
Kurt sighed. “David, I’m going to say this to you once, as someone who’s been there. That ‘shit’ will follow you, no matter where you go. You can’t change what happened, and in a place like Lima, nothing really stays secret forever. All you _can_ change is your approach to it. But,” Kurt said. “If you feel like a fresh start is what you need _too_ change your outlook, then who am I to stop you.”   
  
Dave sighed, drank his beer for something to do, as he tried to think. There was a reason, after all, why he hadn’t sent in his forms yet, one he really didn’t want to think about.   
  
“Let me ask you this,” Kurt said, shifting on his stool. “Why do you come here?”   
  
That was an easy one. “Because they accept me for me,” Dave said.   
  
“And why don’t you want to go to McKinley?”   
  
“Because they won’t,” Dave said, rolling his eyes. “You _know_ that.”   
  
“Yes,” Kurt said. “But I also know, that the other schools in this district? Are pretty much the same. Even Dalton, for all its anti-bullying policies, has a real problem with people who are ‘outside the box.’”   
  
Dave swallowed. “So you’re saying I’ve nowhere to go.”   
  
“I’m saying,” Kurt said, putting down his drink, and turning to face Dave fully. “That if you can’t go somewhere else, then change where you are. _Make_ them accept you, Dave.”   
  
Dave looked away, and Kurt sighed. “And, I have to admit, I was looking forward to starting that GSA with you. I would have killed for something like that at this school, and I know there are others, yourself included, who can benefit.”   
  
Dave pointed his beer at Kurt. “That’s fightin’ dirty.”   
  
Kurt smirked. “That’s playing to win.”   
  
Did he want to go back? Could he go back? Dave had to admit, the idea of _not_ starting over from scratch had some appeal. And if he was hesitating, then he really didn’t _want_ to leave, but-- “I need to think about it.”   
  
“That’s fine,” Kurt said. “We have time. Give me your phone.”   
  
Dave fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it over. Kurt’s thumbs worked quickly over the keypad. “I’m putting my number in your phone. When you make your decision, let me know. And,” Kurt’s phone beeped. “I now have your number, so if I don’t hear from you, of if you make the wrong decision, I can text-bomb you until you agree.”   
  
Dave took his phone back. “I gotta say, Fancy, I never expected the first guy to ever give me his number in a bar to be you.”   
  
Kurt blinked at him, then blushed hotly, shoving at Dave arm. Dave laughed and moved with the motion.   
  
“I mean it, though,” Kurt said.   
  
“I know.” Dave looked over Kurt’s shoulder at the dance floor. “You might want to go rescue your boyfriend.   
  
Kurt looked over his shoulder and sighed, exasperated. “I really hate that guy.” He stood. “I guess I better, huh? I can’t expect you to take a stand, if I don’t do so myself.”   
  
“You’ve been doing nothing but standing since I met you,” Dave said.   
  
“And now,” Kurt said with a smile. “I’m dancing.” He wiggled his fingers at Dave, and practically _stalked_ over to the dance floor. Dave allowed himself a moment to watch Kurt’s ass, because Steve was right, that ass _was_ a fantasy, before he collected his beer and went back to his booth.   
  
“Well?” Steve demanded. “What happened?”   
  
“I got his number,” Dave grinned at the looks on their faces. “Not like that. We’re gonna start a GSA at school this year,” he said. He paused, beer halfway to his mouth. _Huh_. Guess that decision had been made. Dave drank, and let the others thump him on the back, and say they were proud. Later that night, when he got home, he fed his transfer application through the shredder in his bedroom.   
  
The next day, he texted Kurt:   
  
_I’m in._   
  
He held his phone, wondering if Kurt was going to text him back. The longer his phone stayed silent, the more he started kicking himself. He’s probably asleep, still, or busy with--  
  
His phone buzzed.   
  
_Excellent. Look out, MKH. Here. We. Come. ;)_  
  
Dave grinned, and slipped his phone into his pocket. Senior year certainly was going to be--interesting.


End file.
